


What in God's Name

by messy_moon



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 07:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messy_moon/pseuds/messy_moon
Summary: A short but sweet one-shot I wrote based on Series One's final episode, during the talent show. It follows Erin's thoughts and feelings as she realises she's potentially lost Clare's friendship, and James' as well. She's struggling to comprehend why James is affecting her so much, or at least she's too stubborn to admit it to herself.
Relationships: James Maguire & Erin Quinn, James Maguire/Erin Quinn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	What in God's Name

“Now James won’t even speak to me”  
“James doesn’t count”  
Erin felt her stomach drop as Michelle shouldered past her, hoping to get a seat behind Big Mandy, reasoning that if she sat there she would only have to watch half the “shite” that would be on stage, which Erin thought may actually be worse.   
Her stomach dropped at Clare’s abruptness. Like she said, she just wanted her old friend back. What if Clare didn’t want her back though? What if Clare moved on and took James with her? What would she do then? Ignoring that her thoughts were an even split between Clare and James, further reasoning that overall she’d prefer to lose ideally no friends, but it would be easier if only one friend were lost rather than two. She’d also prefer not to be stuck with just Michelle, as Michelle is well … Michelle.   
She looked up from her scuffed, black, leather shoes and let her eyes sweep over the array of half filled assembly chairs. Michelle had found her seat behind Big Mandy, and was looking at Erin with passive frustration as she ‘held’ her a seat. Erin knew Michelle didn’t need to put her bag on the seat to hold it, as nearly the entire school knew they were ‘pack animals’ and could barely be separated come home time. That’s what's exacerbated this rift, thought Erin, the whole fecking school knows I’ve been an absolute dick. There wasn’t much that escaped the school's public knowledge, but Erin wished this particular drama could've.   
How on earth could she make it up to them?   
‘Them?’ She questioned herself. What had she done to offend James? Why did she feel like she needed to win James’ approval back when it was Clare she’d hurt? He should just be thrilled he’s got friends. Although, she reminded herself, that upon recent reflection she realised they may take it too far in teasing him. She’d never admit it out loud though, in fear of Michelle calling her soft. Despite that, she has made a conscious effort to be kinder and more receptive of him and his feelings.   
‘UGH! God!’ She yelled internally as she caught herself debating the intricacies of her and James’ relationship for the billionth time that day.  
‘Relationship!’ She argued with herself. ‘RELATIONSHIP? We have no such thing’ she scoffed to herself, whilst suddenly feeling even more deflated about her current social standing.   
Like obviously she was upset about how her arrogance had gotten the better of her and inflated her ego to the point of it now potentially ruining her friendship with Clare, and what in under God she wouldn’t give to amend what she had said. However, the whole James thing vexed her, and she didn’t know why, and his actions and words stung more than anything Clare had done or said in the past day and a half.   
Erin was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of the hall progressively filling with more and more girls, all bubbling with either excitement or dread at the prospect of spending the next two and a half hours watching various levels of ‘talent’ hosted by Sister Michael, who could often give the devil a run for his money with her acerbic remarks.   
As she took her seat next to Michelle, who moved her bag and greeted Erin with an emphatic grunt, as if to say ‘finally.’ She looked over to where Clare and James had sat, the left side and a row in front.  
‘Did they plan this?’ She thought, ‘Sitting in my line of sight, so I can see them at all times and be reminded of my guilt.’ Her stomach wrenched as she took a deep breath and heard her mammy’s voice in the back of her mind  
‘Stop that Erin. There’s no need for such dramatics! The world’s not out to get you personally.’ As much as her mammy got under her skin, in this particular moment she was really glad of the advice.   
Erin’s attention was drawn back into the real world as Michelle elbowed her ribs and points on stage, in time for Sister Michael to finish announcing dryly that Jenny Joyce would be starting the annual talent show with her rendition of ‘The Rose’ by Bette Midler, and would be accompanied by Aisling on piano.   
Erin found herself thanking the powers that be for Aisiling’s small role in this monstrosity, for at least she could sing, and provided some light relief against Jenny’s shaky falsettos.   
She looked across at James, and wondered why she had such a turning feeling in her stomach as she focused on the lyrics. Dissecting lyrics on the cassette tapes was one of her favourite past times when alone, as she felt it helped her understand the deeper meanings to songs and enabled her own writing. However, as she tuned into the line ‘some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need,’ something felt too much for her; the familiar sting of tears worked its way through her jaw and burned her eyes. Just as she had taken a deep breath and blinked away any evidence, James turned and looked at her. It was a look that killed any sort of smile that she may have thought to bring to her face, and so she looked away first. The tears began to return of their own record, and Erin was in no mood to stop them welling.   
She’d ruined it, she thought to herself, absolutely ruined it.  
“Fuck's sake!”  
Erin broke out of her own mind at the sound of Michelle’s rough whisper, as she looked up at the creaky, old stage that had seen so much that afternoon. She spied Orla strolling across it, into a wavering spotlight and setting that damn step aerobics board down on the rough green carpet. Erin internally threw a flood of curses at herself for not putting two and two together fast enough, she’d been so distracted with this whole James issue.   
Clare! She mentally corrected herself. She should’ve known as soon as Orla hadn’t turned up to the assembly that she was a part of this boke-fest. It was a typical Orla move if you asked Erin, for the group to be in turmoil and for Orla to just swan off, completely oblivious to it all, and do her own thing. A bit selfish, Erin thought, in jealousy.   
Her heart was thumping through her chest as Orla knelt down in front of the board. Hands pressed together in mock prayer, how they had been taught to pray in Sunday school when they were wains in matching frocks. Erin thought wistfully back to those days, where everything was easier, when her biggest worry would be trying not to get paint on her Sunday clothes, but nevertheless ending up covered by Orla. Back before anybody knew what sexuality was. Or before a boy entered the mix, with his dopey smile and kind-hearted nature, she allowed herself these compliments in James favour as she chalked them up to stress, triggered by Orla being up on that bloody stage.  
“Did you know she was gonna do this?” Michelle whispered harshly in Erin's ear.  
“As if, I’d surely put a stop to it if I had Michelle!” Erin whispered back, her voice hoarse from lack of use and the vanished tears.   
The two girls shared a look as Michelle rolled her eyes back into her head, sighed and slumped back into her chair behind Big Mandy, the back of the chair rocking slightly with the force of Michelle hitting it. Erin stared at her hands as she wrung her fingers.   
‘What in the world am I gonna do’ she wondered, as her dry hands passed over each other, until they began to feel clammy from the repetitive action. As she began to desperately try and dry her hands on her school skirt, Erin heard the opening bars to a song she had heard non-stop recently, Like a Prayer by fecking Madonna. By Christ was Orla in big trouble after this, Erin vowed.   
Orla’s routine began and it quickly became a car crash. Erin wasn’t fully sure how step aerobics worked, but she knew that Orla wasn’t meant to look so … possessed, for the want of a better word. She was naturally quite thin, with rather wide and extremely owlish eyes. However, in her bid to tell a story through her routine, and amping up her expressions to fit it, she became a sort of deranged skeleton. Which naturally, you put a vision like that in front of a hall of teenage girls and it’s going to provoke a reaction.   
Erin wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow her whole. The number of weak coughs that began to bounce around the room, from the girls making little to no effort to conceal their laughter, stabbed Erin in the chest each time. This is one of the few times she had felt pity for her cousin, who felt more like a sister to Erin, but she loathed to admit it. The only other times she had felt pity for Orla was when her dad left when they were wee, and neither of them had fully understood what it meant.   
Feeling rather overwhelmingly sentimental, Erin knew she had to something to give Orla a hand. She knew there was something she could do, but it was working up the courage to do it, and actually figuring out what in feck's name was she supposed to do.   
This was Granda and Aunt Sarah’s fault she realised. They build her up too much, and then she goes and does this, thinking she’s un-fecking-touchable.   
‘When in reality’ she spited to herself, ‘not only is she getting laughs and weird looks, but now I am.’   
As she processed this thought, she looked up to see Big Mandy lean in to her younger sister, Tina’s side. Barely audible over the laughter that had fully developed, she watched Big Mandy’s lips as they struggled between fits of laughter.  
“What’s wrong with her like?”  
Erin's blood began to simmer. How dare she! At least Orla had the balls to go up and do something she was good - well, decent at!  
Erin flicked her gaze over to James and Claire, they were both looking at Mandy, which seemed to Erin to be a decent sign, at least they still considered Orla their friend. Without even looking over, Tina replied to her sister. “She’s such a dick”  
Erin had never felt fury like it, that absolute toad, that small freckled dickhead. Erin’s face was burning, she’d never felt heat like it, her heart thumped in her throat, and she was certain she was gonna pass out. She didn’t even look in her friend's directions as she furrowed her dark brows together, scrunched her face in anger and tapped Tina firmly on the shoulder.  
They were hard taps, closer to thumps, echoing that of Erin's heartbeat. She felt Michelle shift into a more confrontational position next to her, Erin thanked Christ that she had heard what had been said.   
Tina turned around and Erin almost bit her tongue clean in half. Erin steeled herself, she took several large mental breaths before taking an actual big breath that hit the back of her throat. She channelled her righteous fury, there was no need to bully Orla, Erin was here to correct injustice. She stood up, hoping it would buy her time to sort herself out. It actually only served to show her shaky her legs were.   
‘Fuck it.’ Erin thought  
“She might be a dick, but she’s my dick!” Erin yelled, glaring at Tina. Her legs began to waver beneath her and the tinny sound of Madonna knocked around her skull as she felt a hall-full of girls turn and look at her. She felt the boke rise in her stomach, thinking how it would react when it met her tight chest and dry mouth. ‘Feck this', she thought.  
“Yeah, she’s our dick too!”  
Erin heard an overly familiar high-pitched voice from the other side of the hall. Her head snapped up, breaking away from Tina’s sneer, and meeting Clare’s eyes. She registered the unsure smile on Clare’s face and shot a weak one of her own, she watched as Clare’s smile spread across her face until they both matched. Erin gave her a small nod, they knew what they had to do.   
Erin felt much freer knowing, know that their spat was resolved, understandably they’d cry about it later at hers and Erin would apologise profusely. Fuck! This meant she had James back too. Erin skipped out of the aisle in happiness at the thought. Not even questioning any repercussions of what she was about to do.   
She felt Clare immediately behind her as she began walking quickly towards the stage to join Orla, she could practically feel the glare Michelle was sending her as she heard two chairs scrape back as her and James realised they were required to join them. Clare had split off to go on Orla’s right so Erin went to join Orla’s left. She watched as James’ face broke into a grin at the sight of her up there dancing away with Orla already, she turned her head to follow him up the stage steps.   
His grin made her stomach churn, not in a bad way like when she stood up to Tina, but in a way that made its way up to her heart, and sort of made it dance. She wondered what it meant, it was probably just down to the fact that thirty minutes ago she had accepted that she had lost him as a friend forever, and now he was suddenly there, on stage, next to her, dancing goofily. She felt safe, he danced quite closely to her, his extra height looming over her but not in a bad way. She enjoyed it, dancing her way over to him as the song came to a crescendo. She finally looked over at Orla to see the relief and thanks in her face, Erin laughed at the fact her face had confirmed that she knew it was the wrong decision, but knowing Orla, she’d say she had just chosen the wrong music. Erin looked back to James and laughed as he pulled a ridiculous face, she’d truly never felt happier.


End file.
